


Letting Go While Holding On

by leavinghope



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Intimacy, Love, M/M, Mild Smut, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavinghope/pseuds/leavinghope
Summary: Bucky Barnes had spent the last century taking care of Steve Rogers. Steve wanted to make sure he was taking care of Bucky, too.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 41
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

Steve Rogers would never be able to get over how beautiful Bucky Barnes was. Bucky had always been beautiful. The first time Steve had described him that way, his mother Sarah had laughed.

“I agree, sweetie, but most boys don’t refer to other boys as beautiful.”

That was the first time Steve realized he might not think of Bucky the way he thought of other boys, of other people. That Bucky might just be more special to him than he’d realized. Steve was sixteen years old.

As they grew older, Bucky only grew more beautiful to Steve. He became the subject of Steve’s drawings, the focus of his most secret fantasies, the most important person in Steve’s life. Bucky wasn’t just beautiful physically. The way he treated people - his sisters, his neighbors, strangers on the street - with kindness and never contempt. The way he treated Steve with compassionand never pity. The way his smile was always true for Steve, the way his friendship was always willingly given, if not always gratefully accepted. Bucky Barnes was perfect.

And then he was gone.

And then Steve found him.

And then Steve lost him.

And then Steve found him.

And then Bucky kept himself away because he thought he might hurt Steve.

And then he clawed his way through hell to get back to Steve.

The cycle of separation and reunion was relentless and cruel and miraculous, and Bucky grew more beautiful each passing day.

Steve was the luckiest man who had ever lived.

Because not only did Bucky come back to him, he told Steve he’d loved him forever, that he thought Steve was beautiful the same way since he was seventeen years old.

***

So, after the world was restored, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes retired to Brooklyn. Well, retired for a certain definition of the term. Steve’s more recognizable face led him to stay close to home, while Bucky relished the ability to roam his hometown freely for the first time in this century. Steve pursued his art, while Bucky volunteered at every dog shelter in the five boroughs. Steve tended plants in their rooftop garden, and Bucky shared their harvest with their neighbors most in need. And every day ended with the two of them in their home, enjoying the domesticity they both craved, their hundred-year-long bond now enhanced by more physical expressions of the love they’d finally spoken aloud.

Steve reveled in every blessed minute of it.

Bucky had always been tactile with Steve. Their youthful roughhousing turned into caring touches during Steve’s illnesses and dispassionate pat-downs during the war.As much as Steve resented Bucky’s coddling when he was younger, he loved every bit of attention he received now.Bucky massaged Steve’s aching hands after long days of sketching, painting, or gardening. Bucky crafted meals from their garden’s herbs and vegetables, covered their furniture with the softest of blankets, prepared comforting hot chocolates from a special blend of cocoa they found at a coffee house in Flagstaff. And as they each learned the other’s bodies, Bucky showed an ardor and a generosity as a lover that Steve’s previous partners never even hinted at.

After so many years of fighting everyone, including himself, perhaps especially himself, Steve enjoyed being the recipient of Bucky’s love.

But he was beginning to think that maybe he was taking too much from Bucky, that Bucky gave more to him than Steve gave Bucky in return. Over the past few weeks, Steve had been thinking of how he wanted to change that, be more of a giver than a taker.

“Steve?”

“In the kitchen.”

Bucky strolled in, looking effortlessly gorgeous as ever, despite a long day with Sam Wilson and others working at the Brooklyn VA. “Smells good in here.” Bucky gave him a quick kiss on the back of the neck while peeking over Steve’s shoulder. “What’s for dinner?”

“Soup. Garlic bread.”

“Enough time for me to clean up first?”

“Sure.”

Steve spent the time while Bucky was in the shower to finish up dinner preparations. It was a simple meal. It had to be, because Steve was definitely not the better cook of the two men. But he could assemble a decent minestrone soup from ingredients on hand, including some from their garden. When he heard the shower turn off, he pulled the garlic bread from the oven and ladled the soup into bowls with a dollop of homemade pesto on top. By the time Bucky returned, dinner was ready.

Bucky surveyed the table with a soft smile on his face before he sat down. “Thank you, sweetheart. This looks wonderful.”

Bucky was the one who looked wonderful. Damp hair framing his beloved face, comfortable t-shirt and sweats accentuating the strength of his body, the relaxed nature of his movement. Steve found himself so overcome with affection that he was unable to speak, so he sat down.

Bucky ate a spoonful of soup and emitted a pleased sound. As he tore off a piece of bread to dip into the soup, he said, “So, what did I do to deserve all this?”

“I literally used your homemade stock and bread. I just kinda put it together.”

“But you put it together with such love.”

As Bucky grinned and winked at him, Steve melted. He felt as tongue-tied as he did as a sixteen-year old, hopelessly in love with his best friend. “Well, I do, you know. Love you.”

“I know, sweetheart. I love you, too, which means you can tell me anything, right?”

Steve nodded, and they enjoyed their meal in silence for a few moments. Then Bucky asked about Steve’s day, and the conversation flowed easily until the last of the food was gone.

“Thanks for dinner. It’s always good to come home to you, and this just made it extra special today.”

A mixture of relief and guilt hit Steve. Relief because Bucky had appreciated his efforts, but guilt because the effort was remarkable enough to mention. All of this must have shown on his face because Bucky said, “Hey, really, what’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. It was so difficult for him to articulate what he’d been feeling. “It’s just... you take such good care of me, but I don’t feel I do my share for you.”

“This is a relationship, not a competition, you know.”

“I know.” Steve sighed. “But you’ve been taking care of me for over a century. I was such a burden when we were younger, and I don’t want to be that way now.”

Bucky reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand tightly between his own. “You have never been a burden to me. Not then, not now.” He squeezed Steve’s hand for emphasis. “I’ve never been with you without wanting to be here. I’ve never cared for you without wanting to do it.” He hesitated a moment before saying, “You believe me, right?”

Steve heard the uncertainty in Bucky’s voice. He knew Bucky had worried about Steve feeling obligated to him after he escaped from Hydra. He knew Bucky sometimes still feared his life would fall apart, that Steve would finally deem him unworthy and leave him. Steve rushed to reassure him. “I know. I do. Just like you know I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Steve noticed the subtle relaxation of Bucky’s shoulders. This was exactly the sort of thing that made Steve feel like he needed to work harder to hold up his half of the relationship. He needed to make Bucky understand how much he wanted to do that.

“I just feel like you do a better job of taking care of me than I do of you. Even in...” And then Steve tapered off and looked away, not knowing what to say next.

Bucky had no such problem. He cocked his head and teased, “Are you talking about sex, Stevie?”

Steve would have been annoyed about the heat flooding his cheeks if he didn’t see a blush on Bucky’s face, too.

“Well, yeah.”

Bucky laughed at Steve’s discomfort, the jerk. “I got no complaints, sweetheart.”

“Neither do I, but...” Steve chuckled, too, shaking his head over how difficult it was to use words to discuss the acts they’d performed on almost every surface in their home. “Just promise me you’ll let me do all the work while you focus on looking pretty sometime soon.”

“I think I could allow that.” Bucky leaned back in his chair, the smirk on his face belied by the tender heat in his eyes that made Steve swoon and want to burrow into his broad chest.“Soon like tonight, maybe?”

Steve was sorely tempted. But today had been a VA day, and those exacted an emotional toll on Bucky, one he willingly paid. This was the sort of detail Bucky always observed about Steve, who at that moment felt confident about how he should respond to Bucky’s unspoken needs. Steve stood up, grabbing their empty dishes. He pressed a lingering kiss to Bucky’s head as he passed by on the way to the kitchen. “Tonight, I was thinking hot cocoas while watching that British portrait painting competition show?”

Once again, Steve was pleased to see the contentment in Bucky’s body language. Bucky smiled up at him, saying, “That sounds perfect, sweetheart.”

Steve put their used dishes in the sink and then grabbed a kettle from the cupboard. In it, he stirred milk, cocoa, and sugar, enough for them to slowly sip the rest of the evening. As he warmed the mixture, he could hear Bucky puttering around their living room. He heard Bucky use the remote control to turn on the television and queue up the shows. He heard the rustle of fabric as Bucky heaped blankets upon the couch. He heard the clicking of lamp switches as Bucky adjusted the lighting to the soft, warm levels they preferred.

While Steve added a little bit of salt and cinnamon to the hot chocolate, Bucky’s arms wrapped around him from behind. “You really are a superhero.”

“No, you’re the superhero.” It was a silly response, but Bucky giggled and squeezed Steve close in response, and it was everything Steve had ever wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [em_dibujsb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_dibujsb/pseuds/em_dibujsb) for the wonderful art in this chapter. She is a wonderful collaborator. And thanks to you for the kudos, comments, and, most importantly, kindness in this weird time we are living in.

Bucky had spent the day volunteering at a dog shelter. Those were always good days. Steve was determined to make this good day extend into a good night. As Bucky was showering, Steve put the final touches on his preparations. Fresh sheets on the bed. Bottles of water and glasses of wine on his bedside table. Damp cloths kept warm in an insulated pack on the floor next to his side of the bed.

“Steve?”

“In here.”

Bucky appeared in the doorway of their bedroom. “We’re having dinner in bed?”

Steve gestured to where he had turned down the sheets. “Get in. I’ll bring dinner to you.” As he moved past Bucky in the doorway, he said, “Get comfy. Don’t feel like you need to wear too many clothes.”

Bucky’s eyes twinkled. “Only if you promise to join me.”

Steve spun back to give Bucky a swiftkiss. “Couldn’t keep me away.”

By the time Steve returned to the bedroom, Bucky was in bed, chest bare, propped up against pillows. His long hair spilled across his shoulders, and his vibranium arm gleamed in the golden, muted light of the bedside lamps. Steve’s heart fluttered. He was amazed he kept the tray steady in his hands.

“What’s for dinner?”

Steve realized he was still standing in the doorway. He walked towards the bed. “Uh, just a light meal. Cheese and fruit…” He blurted out the words he wanted to say. “I was hoping you’d let me feed you.”

Bucky bit his lower lip, but his grin was irrepressible. “Get in here.”

Steve placed the tray at the foot of the bed. He deftly pulled his t-shirt over his head and stripped off his jeans. Leaving his briefs on, he got under the covers with Bucky and pulled the tray up to his lap.

“I went to that cheese shop in Williamsburg we noticed and asked for some recommendations on pairings for the fruit and cheese. Oh, and there’s wine.”

Steve leanedover to grab the glasses of chilled chardonnay.He handed one to Bucky and raised his own glass. “To the best man I have ever known.”

Bucky tapped their glasses together while looking Steve directly in the eyes. “To the best man I have ever known.”

After a few sips, Bucky looked at the tray hungrily. “So, dinner?”

Steve uncovered the larger plate. “I asked for classic pairings, nothing that strange. Hopefully you won’t find it too boring.”

“I seldom find it boring when you put something in my mouth, Stevie.”

Steve knocked their shoulders together and felt his cheeks heat up. “Jerk.”

“But I’m your jerk.”

“You’re also a dork.” Steve kissed Bucky fiercely and started to pick up the cheese and fruit. “You’ll have to tell me which combination is your favorite.”

Steve fed them slices of honeycrisp apple with sharp cheddar, red grapes with aged gouda, and watermelon with feta.

And as Bucky ate the last bite of the salty feta and sweet watermelon, he dragged his tongue across Steve’s finger. “I think this is my favorite.”

A tremor ran down Steve’s spine. “Mine, too.”

“Got any plans for dessert?”

There was one remaining covered plate on the tray, but Steve knew Bucky had something else in mind. And so did Steve, to be honest. “A few, but one of them is more compelling right now.”

Steve pressed his mouth to Bucky’s, savoring the taste of him. He stopped when he heard the tray and plates start to shift. “Sorry. Just let me get these out of the way.” He stepped out of the bed to put the tray on the floor. When he looked back, he noticed the duvet had fallen away from Bucky on one side.

Bucky was already naked and noticeably interested in the proceedings. At Steve’s expression, he answered the unasked question. “I trusted you wouldn’t let dinner injure me.”

Trust. It was such a precious gift from Bucky.

Steve slipped out of his briefs while Bucky looked his fill. “I never get tired of looking at you, Steve. God, you are so beautiful.”

In Steve’s mind, he was still that scrawny kid from Brooklyn, so when people praised his looks, it always rang false. But Bucky… Bucky had thought that kid from Brooklyn was beautiful, too, and his words meant more to Steve than all the accumulated compliments Captain America had ever received.

Steve crawled back onto the bed.Bucky reached for him, but Steve stilled his hand. “Tonight, let me take care of you.”

“But I like to touch you, Steve.”

“I know. I like it when you touch me, too.” Steve kissed Bucky’s palm. “But I want to make this night about you.”

“It’s hard to keep my hands off of you, though, sweetheart.”

Steve had thought about that. He dragged something out from under his pillow. “Trust me on this?”

Bucky looked at the scarf in Steve’s hand. It had been a present from Bucky, in fact: long, blue, cashmere. He said it brought out the color of Steve’s eyes. He cocked his head up at Steve.

“You always make sure I…. I finish before you. I thought this might help you remember to let me take care of you first.” Steve trailed the scarf down Bucky’s right arm, starting at his shoulder, down to his wrist. “I would never bind you so tight you couldn’t free yourself, but I thought it might remind you to let me focus on you, but you know what, it’s probably not a good… ”

Bucky stopped him by holding out his hands, palms up, to Steve. “Go ahead.”

Heart thudding in his chest, Steve looped the scarf around Bucky’s wrists, leaving a large gap between them. He tied it in a quick-release knot, needing Bucky to be comfortable. “Can you free your hands?”

Bucky shot an _are you kidding me?-_ look at Steve.

“I need you to use your words, please. I need to know you’re okay with this.” Because Steve wasn’t very sure of it himself, but hadn’t been able to come up with another way to keep Bucky’s generosity at bay.

Bucky responded by raising his arms above his head, resting them on the pillows, wrists still within the slackbonds of the scarf, eyes looking directly into Steve’s. “I choose to be right here, in this bed, with you.”

In that moment, Steve was positive the serum was the only thing keeping his heart in one piece. “My god, look at you.”

With both challenge and anticipation in his voice, Bucky said, “I hope you’re gonna do more than look.”

Steve nodded his head. “Oh, yeah.”

It was difficult to know where to begin. Steve wanted his mouth on every inch of Bucky’s body. Steve straddled Bucky’s thighs, and after a brief kiss on the lips, he began his exploration.

Steve intended to take it slow, to lavish so much loving on the stunning man beneath him. Steve ran his hands down Bucky’s arms, his sides, his legs. He kissed the arches of Bucky’s feet, the backs of his knees, the curve of his stomach, the tips of his elbows. Steve lingered while massaging Bucky’s shoulders, pondering if there was any place on Bucky he hadn’t kissed before.

With Bucky’s arms above his head, Steve realized there was.

He kissed the spot just under Bucky’s right armpit. Not the sexiest location, but Steve wasquickly rewarded, because Bucky giggled. He’d been ticklish under his arms when they were younger, but the intervening decades had seemingly cured him of that. So, Steve had to try it again, this time under the left armpit. And Bucky giggled again, and tears sprung to Steve’s eyes because he hadn’t heard that exact giggle in over eighty years.

“Are you okay?”

Steve heard the concern in Bucky’s voice andraised his head to look at him. He didn’t have the words to describe just how overwhelmed he was because, while Steve knew Bucky better than anyone else alive, he’d just learned there was still new facetsto learn about Bucky. Steve could only reply, “Never better.”

And wasn’t that the truth.

Suddenly Steve didn’t want to take it slow anymore. He wanted Bucky to know how much he loved him. How much he wanted him, always had and always would. He kissed Bucky thoroughly, open-mouthed, sharing breaths, sliding tongues roughly against each other.Then he dragged his lips down Bucky’s neck, nibbling and biting his sternum, his abdomen, his hips, before finally taking the hardness of him in his mouth.

Decades of dreaming about this and these few precious years of actually being together meant Steve knew exactly what Bucky liked. Tightness and rhythm, when and where to use his tongue, when and where to place his fingers. Eventually Bucky gasped and Steve, even with his super strength, couldn’t keep Bucky’s hips from lifting up, searching for more.

Steve felt Bucky tense, and he knew this was when Bucky would usually flip their positions and take Steve apart. Steve wanted to push Bucky past that point, to allow Bucky to focus on his own needs, not Steve’s. He could hear Bucky breathing hard. Steve paused, looking up through his eyelashes.

Bucky’s arms remained above his head, his wrists straining the loose bonds of the scarf. He could so easily break free, if he wanted. But his eyes were on Steve, and they were full of love and trust and want.

After one more pull, Steve released Bucky from his mouth. “Are you still good with this?”

Bucky nodded and licked his lips.

“Words, please.” Steve placed a kiss to Bucky’s inner thigh. “Are you still good with this?”

Bucky replied, barely audible, “Yeah.”

There was a vein visible above Bucky’s left hip. It frequently distracted Steve when Bucky’s shirt would ride up or when his sweats would ride low. It distracted him now. He gave into the impulse to nip at it. Bucky sucked in his breath, and Steve bit down harder. Bucky whimpered and raised that hip closer to Steve’s mouth.

It took a lot to leave a bruise on a super soldier. But on the rare occasion when Bucky marked him, Steve wanted to show it off to the world, that he was desired by this extraordinary man. He wondered if Bucky would like that, too. When Bucky groaned as Steve sucked on his skin, it seemed he did.Steve glanced up and saw Bucky clinging to the pillows, wrists still within wide loops of blue cashmere. The bruise would match the color of the scarf, for a few short hours. Another one would be so beautiful, so visible on Bucky’s neck.

Steve surged up the length of Bucky’s body and began to work on the sensitive flesh near the scars on his left shoulder. Bucky tilted his head to grant better access, and Steve sucked until Bucky keened and lifted his hips, seeking out friction.

Steve could hear the fabric of the pillowcase start to tear from Bucky’s grip. He was trying so hard not to reach for Steve, trying so hard to let himself go, without giving into his need to take care of Steve.

“What do you want?”

“Your hands.” Bucky begged. “Please, your hands.”

More often than not, Bucky liked Steve to use his hands on him. Steve was usually sated and pliant and unquestioning by that point, but tonight, he could focus more clearly on Bucky’s desires. He wondered if Bucky wanted his hands because he had dreamed of it when they were teenagers. If Bucky had imagined it the same way Steve had dreamed that Bucky would bridge the distance between them and take Steve in his hands, the uncomplicated wants of youth. Tonight he would enjoythe velvety weight, play with rhythm, catalog each reaction to the twists of his wrist, the pressure of his fingers.Steve cherished every gasp as Bucky chased his own pleasure for once. Steve had never witnessed anything more beautiful than Bucky, as he closed his eyes and cried out, as he threw his head back.

And after Bucky came, his eyes were full of joy, and he laughed.

Steve wanted to taste that laugh, and so he did **.** When he pulled back, he watched Bucky stretch contentedly underneath him. Then Bucky looked up at him with a wicked smile, his voice still wrecked. “You know I won’t be completely happy till you finish, sweetheart.” He emphasized his words by arching his back such that Steve’s hardness dragged across the mess on Bucky’s stomach.

Steve groaned, overwhelmed with lust and the urge to rut against Bucky.Because he had caused Bucky to laugh and smile and moan and arch, and the sight of his satisfied lover beneath him, blissful look on his face, made Steve come after a few enthusiastic strokes.

Chest heaving, Steve broughthis lips down to Bucky’s, who returned the kiss eagerly and sweetly. Steve was tempted to collapse on Bucky’s chest, but his plans for the night were not over yet.

“Stay there.” Steve grabbed a few warm cloths from the insulated pack. He brusquely wiped himself off, but took his time tending to Bucky, who smiled gentlyat Steve’s tender ministrations. He tossed the cloths aside and held up a bottle of water.

“Thirsty?”

Bucky nodded his head, and Steve brought the bottle to his lips. After Bucky drank, he inclined his head towards Steve, who sipped water like Bucky wanted him to.

He set the water bottle down on the nightstand. “Would you like some dessert?”

Bucky grinned. “I could handle something sweet.”

Steve retrieved the one remaining covered dish on the tray. He sat facing Bucky and showed him the strawberries, cream, and chunks of milk and dark chocolate.

“Any preference?”

Bucky rested his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. “Surprise me.”

Bucky would never stop surprising Steve.

Sweet milk chocolate, followed by the bright tartness of the strawberry cut with the richness of a little cream, and finally the bitterness of the dark chocolate.“Mmm…” Bucky licked his lips, slowly opening his eyes. “I didn’t hear you eating. Dessert is best shared, don’t you think?”

Bucky watched with an indulgent expression on his face as Steve ate the sweets in the same order. “More, but together this time?”

As if Steve could deny Bucky anything right now. He fed them a few more rounds, treasuring Bucky’s obvious enjoyment. “Had enough?”

“Never enough of you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s hand was shaking as he put the plate on his nightstand. “Never, ever enough of you, Buck.” He covered them up to their waists with their soft duvet, their room cooling off in the brisk night air coming through the open window.

“May I hold you?” Bucky whispered.

“Yes.”

He watched Bucky effortlessly slip the free of the scarf.It made Steve happy to see the evidence that Bucky could have so easily freed himself, but had decided not to. Steve lowered himself to rest his head on Bucky’s chest and smiled as he felt Bucky sigh softly as he wrapped his arms around Steve.

“I love you, Stevie.” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s hair.

“I love you, too.”

“Thank you for all of this.”

Steve’s heart rate picked up, and he realized he was still nervous about his choices for the evening. He angled his head to look up at Bucky. “This was okay?”

“Oh, sweetheart, this has been perfect.” Bucky kissed Steve’s forehead.

Steve was filled with gratitude. He hugged Bucky tightly to him.

“You know, after everything…” Bucky broke off and let out a self-deprecating laugh. _Everything_ was such a fraught term. “I needed a reminder that it’s safe to lose control, as long as it’s you. So, thank you.”

Steve was greatly relieved. He breathed out a simple “You’re welcome” and peppered Bucky’s chest with kisses before nestling back in for a good cuddle.

And Bucky did not disappoint. He immediately started to rub his right hand up and down Steve’s back. There was a cadence to the motion, a pattern to the way Bucky’s fingers touched him, that proddedat a hazy memory in Steve’s mind.

In his low, husky voice, Bucky said, “Sometimes, when you were feverish, you’d take off your shirt. I remember when every vertebrae was visible. I used to count each of these knobs … one… two… three… Rubbing your back, helping you breathe, distracting myself from the temptation of your skin by counting, because you’d never let me take care of you if you knew the effect you had on me.”

Steve shivered and turned his face into Bucky’s chest.

“I couldn’t risk you knowing how I felt. The guilt of having my hands on you, of how much I wanted your hands on me.”

Steve was sure Bucky could hear his heart racing.

“Being here with you like this… god, Steve, it’s better than any dream, and you worry you don’t give me enough? You think you’re just taking from me?”

The depth of the love and passion in Bucky’s voice caused Steve’s entire body to tremble.

Bucky lowered his voice to a whisper. “How about next time, you let me show you just how much I feel I’m taking while you think I’m giving.”

Steve was aching with want and so deeply, deeply in love.

“Or maybe, after tonight, you understand.”

Suddenly Steve found himself on his back, with Bucky poised above him. “What do you need, Steve?”

To cook dinner for Bucky more frequently. To spend another weekend in a cottage by the beach. To sketch Bucky sleeping in the moonlight. To hear Bucky’s giggle again. To feel Bucky’s hands on his body. To feel the scruff of Bucky’s beard on his thighs. To have another century, but this time, together.

Steve reached up, hands tenderly cupping Bucky’s face, and said the only thing he ever truly needed.

“You.”


End file.
